


Reasons

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Shield days, ambreigns - Freeform, look at these nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You weren't raised to love tender.</p>
<p>[x-posted to Tumblr and Fanfiction.net]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post created by the INCREDIBLY talented ageofambreigns over on Tumblr.
> 
> Enjoy!

_The bedroom door slamming into the wall as it was forced open is how it always begins in Dean's nightmares._

 

_A faceless figure, always bigger than him, always stronger than him_ ...

 

Roman had been dozing when Dean had started whimpering and shifting in his sleep, steadily getting louder until Roman woke him up with a stern, “ _Dean!_ ” The black-haired man had been cross, but the terrified look on Dean's face made the angry words die in his throat. “Dean...you okay?” he asked instead, sitting up a bit more in his bed.

 

“I wasn't fuckin'...I didn't exactly have a great upbringing, Reigns.” Ambrose mumbled from his spot on the couch-bed in the hotel room.

 

“What does that even--”

 

“I get-! I g-get...I get nightmares, is all. I ain't good at dealing with them. I'm sorry I woke you up, man. I'll uh. I'll figure something out.” Dean said, sliding further down on the couch and actually starting to unlace his boots. He'd been so tired he kind of just fell into bed fully-clothed.

 

Reigns was suddenly next to him, the other man's closeness making Dean flinch at an almost comical level. “Aha, Jesus. Warn me next time, I'm liable to fuckin' knock you out.” he tried to joke, tried to ignore the concern on Roman's face. Guy was an open book sometimes.

 

“Sorry,” Roman apologized quietly. “Do you want to...?” he trailed off, unlacing Dean's other boot for him.

 

“No, no way. I mean, yeah. But. No also.” Ambrose yanked on a chunk of his hair in frustration. “I ain't talked to anyone about it before, y'know? Dunno' if I should break that streak.”

 

“Well it might be a contributing factor in you having nightmares.” Reigns pointed out.

 

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face and laying back on the couch-bed. After a moment he patted the empty space beside him. “I promise I won't keep you up for too long. I'll give you the abridged version.”

 

“Not an issue, Uce. I want you in fighting shape.” Roman assured him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and twining his fingers in Dean's free hand.

 

Ambrose stared down at their hands for a minute, feeling a lump swell in the back of his throat. “Th' fuck Reigns, you're such a golden motherfucker sometimes.” he finally managed to say.

 

Roman cocked his head to the side, seeming confused. “We're a touchy-feely family, Dean. Figured you put that together by now.” His grin was easy, gentling the lump in Dean's throat to a dull ache.

 

“When does Rollins get back? I don't...he doesn't need to hear all this shit.” the lighter-haired man stalled, starting to shift his eyes.

 

“He's not with us tonight, his girl is here. They're probably doing some sort of 24 hour gym date.” Roman snorted. “Now spill. What happened to you as a kid that's giving you nightmares even now?”

 

The pressure of his grip remained steady as Dean struggled with his words, trying to find a good opening point that wouldn't leave him a sobbing wreck. “My mom raised me alone.” he began quietly. “It was tough. We moved around a lot and we never really seemed to have enough of what we needed. She did some stuff that...I mean, she had her vices, y'know?” Dean felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, and he took a deep breath. “Sometimes to keep herself in...whatever the substances were, she'd uh. Sell her 'services'. Or have live-in boyfriends. Stuff like that.”

 

His laugh was hollow. “Guys around the age I am now don't like kids around the age I was then. I got my ass handed to me a fair amount by a rotating shitshow of boyfriends. If Mom stepped in, she'd lose their support. There were a few times she rose to the occasion, but usually that'd just turn the aggression onto her instead. And I guess she got tired of taking the beatings for me.” Dean fell silent, swallowing hard as a few fragments floated to the top. The way she smelled...the way she'd cry sometimes when he was a bruised little pulp on the floor of some derelict apartment.

 

“Dean, I had no idea. I'm sorry.” Roman's voice was soft, and Dean was damn near eternally grateful for his tag-team partner.

 

Because there was no pity in his tone. Even though Reigns had essentially lived a sheltered life, had everything handed to him on a silver fucking platter and couldn't  _possibly_ understand what it was like to go without, to live month to month not knowing whether the place you leave in the morning is the place you'll be sleeping at night...

 

He was still a fucking decent human being just for giving Ambrose the time of day, never mind listening to him whine about his shit childhood at ass o' clock in the morning. With his shaking hands and fucked-up life, what even in the fuck.

 

Dean's heart swelled at that, and he grinned weakly up at the black-haired man. The guy he was apparently important enough to that he'd miss out on sleep for him. And everyone knew Roman  _loved_ his sleep. “Well, enough of my fuckin' bawling. Thanks for listening, Leakee.”

 

Roman laughed ruefully at the teasing nickname, rumpling Dean's hair. “Don't push it, Uce. But I'm here anytime you need me, got that?”

 

...

 

Roman couldn't sleep for a while after that, tossing and turning. Listening to Dean snore softly.

 

_What would that even be like?_ he wondered, staring up at the ceiling.  _Not having enough food. I mean there were some touch and go times during developmental_ , he reasoned,  _I woke up hungry a few mornings. But Dean_ ...

 

Roman's heart sank as he recalled Dean always having a (now that he thought about it) downright  _suspicious_ amount of food to share. Almost like he didn't care about being fed himself. Dean would also parcel everything out down to the last crust, trying to make sure Reigns got more.

 

“ _You're bigger than me dude, you **need** more!_ ” Roman remembered Dean saying when he'd protested. Roman hadn't stopped him then, but now, knowing what he knew? 

 

_What the hell. How could he share with me?_ Shame bloomed hot across Roman's face.  _All I had to do was give my parents a call if I ever needed help. Shit, I could have made it so much easier for him if I'd known! What the fuck is it about people who have nothing giving fucking everything_ .

 

He rolled onto his stomach, flipping the pillow to the cooler side. _I have to be better. At asking. Or listening. Maybe both_...

 

...

 

Dean replayed that statement again and again through the next few months.  _Anytime you need me_ . A couple nights he almost took Roman up on his offer. 

 

But then, they had a  _hell_ of an argument over Dean fumbling a move during a match and nearly breaking Roman's wrist. 

 

“This is all I've _got_ , Ambrose! If I break something, I'm _fucked!_ ” Roman hollered in his face, huge and angry and _too close too close too close_ \--

 

Dean's whole body started trembling, the proximity and volume of Reigns setting him off. Roman, too upset to notice, gripped the other man's upper arms, probably intending to give him a good shake.

 

“ _Don't you dare touch me!_ ” Ambrose erupted at the contact, ripping free of Reigns' grasp and shoving the black-haired man _hard_. Roman fell backwards, landing squarely on his ass with Dean standing over him. Ambrose could hear his pulse slamming in his ears while Roman scrabbled backwards and he stalked after him. “You thought you could just _manhandle_ me, you _motherfucker?!_ ” Dean raged, “Just like _everyone else_ , even _Roman fucking Reigns_ gets a kick out of _fucking me up!_ ”

 

“ _Wait!_ ” Reigns yelled, throwing up a hand and stopping Ambrose in his tracks. “Dean I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.” he apologized, his voice soft again. “Please. I'm sorry I was so upset. I shouldn't have done that, not after all the shit that's happened to you.” Roman rested his forehead gingerly against Dean's thigh, no doubt feeling the uncomfortable jitters that wracked him. “Dean I'm so fucking sorry.”

 

“I uh.” Being abruptly yanked from his fury was something Dean wasn't used to. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head and then punched him in the gut. “Shit Ro, I'm sorry too. I lost my fucking cool, big time.” he mumbled, feeling ashamed. “I could have really fucking hurt you. Shit. I'm so sorry.” Dean dragged his hands down his face. “ _Jesus_ fuck, Ro, I gotta' be more careful about this shit.”

 

“You mean _we_ have to be more careful.” Roman amended, making Dean give him a quizzical look. “Shit Uce, I set you off. I ought to be able to work with you to figure out how to not do that again.” 

 

Dean knelt, his legs suddenly feeling like they would give out. He bumped his forehead into Reigns', baring his teeth. “Roman, I'm gonna' fucking  _hurt_ you someday. I'm gonna' slip up and you're gonna' have to put me down.” Ambrose looked up, locking his eyes with Roman's confused stare. “I just want you to promise me when that time comes, you won't go easy on me. All of us know I'm a ticking time bomb. I need you to keep everyone else safe when I can't...maintain anymore, okay?”

 

Reigns began to stammer something out and Dean flat-out  _snarled_ at him. “ _No_ . I need you strong, Ro. You gotta' be decisive when I finally go off the deep end. I'm asking  _you_ because I know you're tough enough to incapacitate me. I'm gonna' work on myself, but can I trust you in the meantime in case something goes wrong?”

 

Dean had to be prepared. His mental state had been fraying for years, but doctors were expensive. It was probably too late for him, anyway. Best that he enjoy his time while he had it, and have someone on hand to take him out when he finally snapped.

 

“Can I trust you?” Ambrose repeated, watching Roman's brow furrow again.

 

“You're my Uce, Dean. Anything I would do for my blood family, I'd do for you.” Reigns finally stated firmly. “If this is what you think you need, I'll do my best for you.”

 

To his credit, Roman didn't flinch when Dean extended a hand to help him back up.

 

…

 

Roman just had a _hell_ of a match, bodies everywhere and still the Powerhouse standing tall over them. Blood streaked from his mouth down to his jaw, startlingly red. It spattered when he roared in triumph, raising his fists high above his head. Dean knew he was hurting, hurting so bad. It filled him with pride though to watch his partner, his _friend_ slaughter through all of that and still have the heart to unleash that resounding war cry. Rollins cackled and pounded his fists on the barricade, seeming completely amazed that Roman had won.

 

“Go see him!” he shouted in Dean's ear as Roman left the ring limping. “Make sure he's alright, we'll need him soon!”

 

In the locker room Dean slammed his forehead into Roman's like Roman had done to him so many times. “You fucking _murdered_ them, Ro! That was fucking _incredible!_ ” he laughed breathlessly. The ecstatic grin on his face faded rapidly when Roman's eyes rolled back in his skull and he went boneless against Ambrose.

 

“R-Roman?” he stammered, terror setting in as Reigns' blood-smeared face pressed into his shoulder. Dean scrambled to lower the other man to the floor, his muscles screaming in protest. “Ro please! Ro!” he begged, cupping Reigns' face in his hands. “Fuck's sake Big Dog it was just a love tap! Please!

 

_I fucking k nocked him out. Oh my fucking god, I try to headbutt him **one time** and I knock him out._ Dean muffled a frantic scream with his fist.  _ He just got whipped to hell and back and I knocked him out. What the fuck is  **wrong** with me? _ Dean bolted to his feet.  _ I need a trainer, a medic. Someone! _

 

Ambrose avoided Roman for three days after that incident. No easy task, considering they usually roomed together, ate together and trained together.

 

Dean tried to ignore the way he felt wrong _constantly_ , so wrong without his partner beside him. He caught himself almost sending Roman texts, barely managing to stop in time. It was better that he just cut his cancerous self out of Reigns' life, quickly and efficiently. Roman didn't need someone like Dean as his friend.

 

He was all rough edges. Full of dog collar matches and gore and sweat, he didn't fucking _deserve_ Roman as a friend. Reigns with that fucking _smile_ and that fucking _hair_ and his fucking. _Kindness_.

 

They could work together, but their friendship was clearly over. The sooner Dean got that through his head, the better.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Seth needled Dean when he caught him shoveling food into his mouth at an ungodly hour of the night in the hotel restaurant/bar.

 

Dean shook his head stubbornly, slamming yet another piece of pizza down his throat. “Of coursh' not, dun' be a doush'pag bou' it.”

 

“For fuck's sake Dean, I don't need your petty bullshit right now. Reigns is fucking _miserable_ , it's impacting his regiment and I need you guys to put on your big boy trunks and _deal with your shit_.” Rollins growled, “I'm not going to suffer because you two want to fuck like rabbits and you've got your straight goggles on, alright?”

 

Dean damn near choked on his pizza at that, sputtering and taking a huge swig of his beer to wash it down. “Excuse me?” he gasped finally, making Rollins laugh.

 

It wasn't exactly a kind noise. “You're fucking pitiful sometimes Dean.”

 

“Th' fuck do you even _mean_ , Rollins. We're at odds because I fucking knocked him out. I'm...I feel bad about it, okay? Really bad. You don't know what it was like, man. You didn't see him. He just kind of...” Dean put his face in his hands, inhaling deeply. “He just went...limp. Total ragdoll. It was terrifying. Blood looks fucking _wrong_ on him, y'know? I don't know if he's ever been knocked out before. What if I fucked him up, fucked his brain up?” Ambrose's hands started to shake, tapping against the barely-visible seam of scar tissue on his forehead. “What if he can't do this anymore? What if he's like me--”

 

“ _Dean_.” All the flippant attitude had gone out of Seth's voice. He sounded tired now, but more like himself. “Near as I can tell you're the only brain-damaged fuckskull in this group. Now. Go. And. Talk. To. Him.”

 

“He must fucking hate me.” Dean groaned.

 

“Text his ass and get it done, Ambrose.” Seth ordered, slapping the other man on the back of the head. “I'd get another pizza and head up with it if I were you. With shrimp on it. You know how it is, 'way to a man's heart is through his stomach'.”

 

Ambrose dithered for a few more minutes after ordering the fresh pizza, his fingers hovering over the screen of his phone.

 

_U awake?_ Jesus, what was he, twelve?

 

_Roman I have pizza and an apology. Can I come up?_ Better, he supposed, making up his mind and hitting the send button.

 

He didn't even get his phone back into his pocket before it pinged.

 

_UCE!_

 

Dean's noble resolutions, his vow to extract himself from Reigns' life went to pieces at the sight of that one word.  _ Brother, he's calling me brother, he can't be mad at me! _ he reasoned wildly, snatching up the pizza and bolting for the lobby.  _ I'm still Uce. It's gonna' be fine _ .

 

…

 

“Two of my favorite things!” Roman exclaimed happily, dragging Dean into an overly-fierce hug. He'd missed him over the past few days and he said as much, watching Ambrose flush uncomfortably.

 

“Shit Ro, I figured you'd be pissed with me.” Dean tapped his fingers nervously on the pizza box and stared at the floor, shoving his boot against the thick rug.

 

Roman wasted no time in whacking his forehead into Dean's, laughing when the other man almost jumped out of his skin. “You clocked me good, yeah, but I was going down anyway Uce. Too much movement too soon, you know how it gets.” he grinned, easily resolving what Dean had apparently been hell-bent on making A Big Deal. “I figured you were worried about it. I just didn't want to rush you is all.”

 

_ I definitely haven't been fucking  **mooning** around all sad, waiting for you to text me. Or anything _ . Roman wanted to laugh at his own thoughts.  _ Christ I have it bad. _

 

“Yeah, 'worried' is kind of an understatement. I'm glad you're okay, though.” Dean mumbled, sounding uncomfortable. “I...you scare me sometimes man. You should be mad at me, Ro. You ought to be upset with me, why the fuck do you forgive me so quick?”

 

Reigns took Dean's arm and guided him to sit down on the couch. And yeah, his hand might have stayed on Dean's upper arm for a little longer than it needed to. But after three days of nothing but moping and eating his meals alone, Roman hoped Dean would be a bit more lenient. He sat down beside Ambrose, sliding his fingers down to the other man's hand and taking it in his own.

 

Silvery, barely-visible lines crisscrossed the back of both of Dean's hands, relics of matches Roman had only seen choppy footage of. Ambrose rarely talked about his fights before developmental. But the scars that patchworked his body told an uneasy story. Barbed wire here, the sawblade that dug into his forehead...

 

Roman remembered how his stomach had turned at _that_ , having to quickly slam his laptop shut and fight a wave of nausea. Brain Damage indeed. He was fucking lucky that his path had never crossed Roman's.

 

Dean hadn't had an easy life, that much was obvious. He was slow to trust and quick to snap. Roman had honestly been expecting him to hold on a few more days before getting in touch with him, somewhat used to Dean's patterns of self-loathing and willingness to believe that he didn't deserve anything good. He would take the surprisingly out-of-character 'reachout' with no questions though. Ambrose would never learn to deal with himself if he was ridiculed or questioned every time he did something out of the ordinary.

 

…

 

Roman seemed lost in thought, staring down at their intertwined fingers. Dean shifted in his seat, feeling more than a little awkward. Reigns had a bad habit of occasionally 'checking out' on Ambrose, not that Dean was in any position to judge.

 

“Ro?” he began, making Reigns jerk his head back up to look at him. That smile, that fucking smile melted Dean's heart every time.

 

“Sorry man. Just thinking.”

 

“Yeah, I figured. You still haven't answered my question, though.”

 

Roman sighed, rubbing his thumb across Dean's knuckles. “I don't really have an answer, Uce. Not one that'll make sense, anyway.” He raised Ambrose's hand to his lips, pressing an kiss absently to the scarred skin.

 

Dean sucked in a breath, confused. “Dude, did you just...?”

 

“Yeah.” Roman's eyes had gone hard, clearly waiting for some kind of outburst. His fingers never loosened though, still easily tangled with Dean's.

 

Ambrose shook his head, that lump in his throat back with a vengeance. “Ro that shit's for soft people. I ain't a soft person. You know that.” His laugh faltered a little bit. “I ain't a person who deserves soft things neither, no matter how much I want 'em.”

 

There. He'd said it. Fully indicating that actually, there was nothing he wanted _more_ than the soft-person-shit, _especially_ if it came from the hands of the golden motherfucker himself. Roman's hands didn't look like he'd had a lifetime of awful fucking bullshit to deal with.

 

Dean wanted it badly. If that was even what Reigns was offering.

 

Roman's brow had furrowed at Dean's words, creasing a line above his nose. Ambrose scooted closer, knocking his knees into Reigns' and quickly tucking his face into the other man's neck. There was dead silence for a minute as Dean held his breath and Roman went stiff.

 

The black-haired man finally gave a soft little gasp, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly and keeping him where he was. “Uce,” he said. “I can give you the gentle stuff, if you need it. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

 

“So many fucking shit people in my life, Reigns.” Dean mumbled against his skin, loving the way Roman hummed at the words. “It'll be a full-time job. But I ain't trying to be a needy motherfucker, y'know? You can back out anytime--”

 

“Dean.” Reigns sounded like his teeth were clenched. “If we're gonna continue this conversation you should probably stop doing that to my neck.” He didn't seem upset, though. Embarrassed?

 

“Aw, someone got a weak spot?” Ambrose teased, giving Roman a nip beneath his jaw. Reigns full-on fucking _whimpered_ at that, making Dean's eyes go wide. “Oh _wow_.” he grinned. “No shit, huh?”

 

Roman grimaced, flushing. “Neck's sensitive.”

 

“No fuckin' joke, Big Dog.” Dean chuckled, sneaking a hand up Roman's back to tangle in his hair carefully. He gently tugged, enjoying the way Roman fought briefly against the motion before tilting his head back. “I got you, Uce. If you'll take care of me, I can take care of you.”

 

Ambrose pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to Reigns' neck, luxuriating in the little shudders that wracked the other man. Dean was definitely half-hard in his pants already, hauled there by the noise Roman had made (and was continuing to make, much to Dean's delight). He wondered what Roman got off on, what kinks he had. The possibilities made his head spin.

 

“Ro, what do you like?” he breathed against Roman's ear.

 

“You.” Reigns answered without missing a beat.

 

“Fuck's sake, you are one smooth motherfucker.” Dean admitted, a little flustered at that. _Wow. No hesitance at all. What have I fucking done to you_. “But I meant more uh...specifically, y'know? Any parts I shouldn't touch? Bedroom etiquette? Wants and needs, that kind of stuff.”

 

“Oh! Oh uh. Um.” That fucking blush was back, making Dean want to writhe. Something about worked-up Roman Reigns was absolute torment. “I don't _think_ I have any untouchable areas. We can find out if I do.” he said with _that_ smile.

 

Dean felt his cock begin to press insistently against his zipper.

 

“I like lots of things in bed! I like when my partner feels safe and cared for, I can be dominant. I've uh...I mean I'm decent with tying people up, if they need it.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “I try to be versatile, y'know?”

 

Ambrose couldn't resist leaning in and cupping Roman through his sweatpants. The fucker was hard already, just from the neck mauling. Reigns groaned, panting against Dean's shoulder as Dean _slowly_ stroked up to his stomach, fingers trailing across the skin he exposed by shoving Roman's shirt up. “I meant _you_ , Reigns. What do _you_ like.”

 

“I...” Roman seemed confused.

 

“What, no one ever asked what the big bad Reigns wants in bed? Everyone just assumes you're the stereotypical top, with the muscles and domination?” Ambrose teased.

 

Roman's nod came as a surprise to Dean, the other man sliding back a little. “Seriously?” Dean asked incredulously. Another nod. “Well shit. Uh. This night just got a fuck ton more interesting.” he grinned, bouncing to his feet and pulling Reigns to stand as well. “C'mon, bed!” Dean said, stumbling as he tried to yank off his shoes. “You're way too fucking cute to be stuck doing all the work Reigns. That's a fucking fact right there.”

 

Roman's laugh was a warm noise to begin with, but now it made Dean feel like he was on fire.

 

…

 

“I don't really know what I like, I guess.” Roman admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. It felt weird to say out loud, but it _was_ true. He always wanted his partner to have a good time, and if there was a role he could easily fill then so be it. “I know my neck is really...well, you saw. I must have more sensitive spots but I've never really. _Explored_ , y'know?”

 

“I am going to fix you like you would not even fucking believe, Reigns.” Dean seemed like a kid in a candy store, that maniac gleam shining a little brighter in his eyes.

 

Roman opened his arms, scooping Dean up and holding him close for a second. “I don't know if you can top how I already feel, Uce, but you're welcome to try.”

 

“Fuck's sake Reigns, I'm trying to get a feel for you, not bust into tears.” Ambrose grumbled, letting himself be held anyways. “Alright, enough of this soft stuff. When it's my turn you can lay it on me. But it's _your turn_.” Dean's grin was feral as he pushed Roman back into the mattress, running a hand through the other man's hair to keep it from getting pinched under his shoulders. “Let's check out this neck of yours, huh?”

 

“Oh god.” Roman murmured as Dean latched on with teeth and tongue over his jugular. He arched his back, almost dislodging Dean with the motion. “So good so good--” he gasped, reaching down to palm Dean through his jeans. He was rock hard, exhaling a breathy noise when Roman touched him and bumping his hips teasingly against Roman's hand. “Dean can I...?”

 

“Nope, no way. This is for you, Ro.” Dean mumbled against his neck, “hey, think your tat is sensitive too?”

 

Roman didn't have time to answer as Dean started tracing his tongue over the intricate ink work. The lighter-haired man paused when he got to Roman's shoulder, giving it a few quizzical licks. “Whath thith?” he asked while prodding his tongue across the raised area. “Holy shit Ro, is this a scar? An honest to god fucking...” Ambrose yanked his own shirt off and flopped down on his stomach, pressing one of the many scars on his own shoulder to Reigns' with a grin. “Check it out, man, scar buddies!”

 

Roman couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Ambrose just looked so fucking happy. “Yeah Uce. Scar buddies.”

 

“ _You're_ a smart fucking cookie Reigns, getting that...whatchamacallit, that pattern tattooed over it.” Dean sighed. “I'll need a whole back piece to cover this shit up.”

 

“It's a fala mat, Uce.” Reigns gently corrected him. “Kind of a big deal.”

 

“Fuck, right. I'll get that word tattooed on my forehead.” Dean's smirk was crooked. “That way I ain't forgetting it again.”

 

“You'd probably get it done backwards.”

 

“Roman Reigns, rewarding my kind gestures with nothing but mockery.” Ambrose lazily hooked a leg over Roman and hoisted himself up to straddle him. Roman was surprised when Dean pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and slowly began rocking back and forth.

 

“Uce...” he groaned, reaching to grab Dean's hips and urge him faster. Dean slid out of reach though, that smirk in full force as he tugged Roman's sweatpants down and started sucking a hickey to life on Roman's hip.

 

Roman's eyes flew open at the feeling, quickly biting down on his lip to stifle the embarrassing noises he was bound to make. He couldn't help the moan that slipped out when Ambrose continued to trail careful, open-mouthed kisses down the inside of his thigh. Roman's whole body felt too hot, everything that Dean did sending new jolts up his spine. No one had ever...

 

Roman dragged his fingers through his hair, feeling like some part of him ought to be ashamed because he was enjoying this far too much. Somebody was actually taking the time to map out his body. To fucking _savor_ him instead of requesting that he fuck them into the mattress or the wall or the floor. Roman moaned again, this time a bit louder.

 

Dean seemed to take it as the go-ahead and proceeded to touch his lips to the base of Roman's cock. The black-haired man hissed out a breath and tried to steady his hips while Ambrose dragged his tongue up the side of his cock. “C'mon Ro,” Dean whispered, “lose it for me.”

 

Roman shakily wound his fingers through Dean's hair, Dean's eyes rolling back at (Roman assumed, anyway) the brief spike of pain from the pull. Then, Dean was a purring, sucking mess, taking all of Roman's cock into his mouth without as much as a breath beforehand.

 

“ _Oh_ \--!” Reigns gasped, _feeling_ Dean's satisfied mew when he tugged his hair harder. “Oh _god_ look at you. Sucking my dick like it was made for you. You're so good to me Dean, so fucking _good_...” Roman groaned, listening to Dean echoing his noise with a low whimper. “You like the praise, huh? You like being told you're good, so good, you're _amazing_ \--” Reigns heard a zipper slide down and he knew he'd struck a nerve.

 

Roman slid a shaky hand to the base of his cock, feeling the spit slick on his abdomen with a strange thrill. “Hey.” he panted, tipping Dean's chin up. “Come up here so I can at least stroke you.” Ambrose moaned, not crawling so much as draping himself over Roman, finally ending up on his side with his jeans tight around his thighs. He looked so damn helpless, blue eyes hungrily following Reigns' every move.

 

“I'm good, right Ro?” he rasped, hiding his face against Roman's thigh afterward. He seemed embarrassed that Roman had found him out so quickly, but also eager. “M' good?”

 

“God _damn_ Dean, you're amazing.” Roman took a deep breath, giving Dean's cock a lazy stroke. “You're beautiful.” He bit his lip when Dean carefully shook his head, soldiering on. “Yeah, you are so you'll just have to get used to it.”

 

Ambrose's cock twitched in Roman's hand. He'd had no idea Dean would get this wound up over just being told the truth. Roman briefly wondered what else he could do, how long it would take to kiss every scar on Dean's back. Especially the ones he didn't like to talk about.

 

“You're so damn beautiful.” Roman breathed as he sped up his hand to match Dean's rhythm on his own cock. “You look fantastic like this, all ready to go to pieces with me.”

 

Dean moaned around Roman's dick, reaching down with his free hand to tangle his fingers with Roman's and stroke himself in tandem. He made a choked noise like he had just bottomed out in someone (that noise went _straight_ to Roman's groin, thinking about Ambrose fucking him or maybe vice versa), pulling off Roman's cock for a second to gasp a curt, no-nonsense “ _gonna cum_ ”.

 

“God yes, yes please.” Reigns had no idea when his fucking _rumble_ had kicked in but there it was, making Dean's eyes go wide. “Cum for me.”

 

Dean's whole body stiffened and he cried out, his release ending up on his stomach and Roman's fingers. Reigns moaned with him, unable to resist the urge to cum any longer after that enthusiastic display from his partner.

 

Ambrose swallowed everything that he had to give and then slumped onto his back, wheezing a little bit. “Holy fucking shit.” he gasped, still wide-eyed.

 

Roman laughed, just as breathless as Dean. He kicked his sweats off the rest of the way and tossed them across the room, then started fumbling with Dean's tight jeans. “I bet this could be a great way to keep you from having those nightmares, Uce.” Panic abruptly broke over him as he remembered something.

 

“I forgot about the fucking _PIZZA_ , Uce!”

 


End file.
